Stick Together
by MintToy
Summary: Claire and Owen decide to stick it out. - Post Jurassic World.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

 _Surrender to what is. Let go of what was. Have faith in what will be._

* * *

"So… what do you think?"

The apartment is small. She guesses maybe just one bathroom, two bedrooms and a kitchen, dining room and living room all lumped together in one space.

They had just left the evacuation site. After getting her injuries checked and her story straight with the government officials, Claire wanted nothing more than to leave. Owen became her ticket out when he offered to let her tag along in his plan to start over in Costa Rica.

 _Stick Together. For Survival._

Apparently, the former raptor trainer was staying in touch with an apartment manager somewhere in San José. So as soon as they got the green light to go, the two of them left with nothing but the clothes on their back and a few spares in a knapsack. And now, here she stands. Sure, it's dinky and small, but it's quaint, not to mention that it is _something_.

She figures that this apartment is one step closer to normalcy.

"I like it." She walks over to the kitchen, running a finger over the dusty countertops.

"Really?" Owen pipes up from the entrance door, sounding genuinely surprised. "I mean, I know it isn't exactly your style, but at least you have your own bedroom."

She nods her head, still glancing around with a calculative look on her face. "It can work. We can split the rent fifty-fifty."

He shrugs his shoulders and ambles over to her side. "So I guess we're roommates now."

She takes one last glance around the apartment, hanging on to the hope that she made the right decision. "… I guess so."

* * *

The first few days are awkward. Turns out that socialization with Owen isn't as easy as she thought. He might be easygoing, but she's not. They can't talk about anything that doesn't involve dinosaurs and when they do, it just brings back a flood of memories that she'd rather forget. It _hurts_. So she avoids the topic altogether.

Karen had offered to take her in, but she couldn't accept it. She knows her sister would ask questions. Make her talk about it. Somehow find a way to make it all right. She also has the boys to take care of – God knows they're traumatized enough. Not only that, she's well-aware that their dealing with familial issues; her arrival will only delay and aggravate it.

So instead, Owen seems like the way to go. He doesn't ask questions – he doesn't need to – and he also doesn't crowd, understanding her need for space at this time.

When she turns on the TV, there's nonstop news about Jurassic World and its fateful shutdown. Owen prefers not to watch, but she feels the need to keep up with the evacuation progress. But when they start listing death counts and missing people, she has to shut it off. She knows now that people – and dinosaurs – aren't just numbers on a spreadsheet. The media can glorify the incident all they want, but all of it will pale in comparison to the real trauma.

The first thing she did when she settled here was open up her savings account. It made her wonder why exactly she stocked up so much money (she took no vacations, had no family and no college funds to save up for), but she's thankful she did. The next couple of days, she goes out to make necessary purchases and finds her way through the new city.

She admits that it's a little lonely (turns out she was so invested in the theme park that she didn't have time for friends) and Owen is hardly home. She doesn't even know where he goes. They wake up at different times. Mostly, she wakes up first to do some errands, but only to come home to an empty apartment. The rare times that they're both there, they hardly even speak. He always comes home tired, greets her with an amicable 'Hello' and retires to his room where the light is out only minutes later.

They don't eat together. They don't make plans together. Heck, they hardly even occupy the same room together. And she wonders if she regrets coming here in the first place.

But at night, when she's already in bed and she hears his heavy footsteps padding down the hall, it's a relief to her. Even if they're not exactly together, she still likes knowing that he's just in the other room if she needed him. Ever since the incident, she can't help but feel _safer_ in his company. Like everything will be okay (she holds on to this tiny sliver of hope). But for now… she supposes it will take time for them to be comfortable with each other _outside_ the danger zone.

* * *

He gets nightmares sometimes. She's sure of it, because she gets them too. Sometimes, she hears him mumbling the names of his raptors. Sometimes, his mumblings turn into screams. She's debated going over to him, perhaps get him to talk about it, but she always decides against it. She's learned that she's not very good at that – dealing with feelings and such.

So she stays. She has her own nightmares to bear. The other night, she dreamed of that wretched white monster swallowing her whole.

It scares her though – all these dreams and feelings of guilt. It makes her feel _trapped_ somehow, like she'll never make it out. She's _still_ in that theme park. Forced to relive it over and over until she's sick. And because she's to blame, she'll never escape. This is her punishment.

* * *

It's a week later and Claire decides that she's settled enough. She's already familiarized herself with the city, bought enough household necessities and she's developed a routine. It's finally time to do what she's been itching to do from the start: get a job.

She has no doubt that a job will get her back in shape and allow her feel a sense of _normal_ , maybe even give her a much-needed sense of control in her life. So she does just that. She hands out resumes, sharpens up her Spanish and when she goes to hand in her third resume, she's offered an interview right away. After thirty minutes, she's officially the new receptionist at the spa down the street.

It didn't matter if it was a menial job. Readjusting is still the first priority. Ambition can come later. After all, it's the first spark of happiness she's felt since she got here.

Oddly enough, when she opens the door to her shared apartment, Owen is actually home. She's caught off guard at first, but he's really there. Eating in the dining room and still in his pajamas.

"Owen?"

Her voice startles him a bit, but he gestures for her to wait there. She also notices that he's eating his food quicker, which makes her think he waited up for her.

"Claire, hey. I wanted to talk to you," he starts, confirming her suspicions. She moves to sit on the chair opposite him.

"First of all, I know I haven't been the best roommate because I was rarely even _here_ this past week, but it's because I've been busy. So to start off, I wanted to apologize for that."

She nods her head. "It's okay. I understand. I've been busy too," she says with completely sincerity, because she really means it.

But he doesn't let her dismiss it. "I know. I know. But I still have to make it up to you somehow. Since I was the one who invited you here, I have to make sure you don't feel left out or anything. Otherwise, you'll leave and I don't want that."

She waves a dismissive hand at his comment, trying to convey that she _really_ didn't mind the solitude this past week. "It's fine, Owen. Really. I mean, I got a job this morning so I think I've been doing fine so far."

A look of surprise flashes over his face and he pauses momentarily, speechless. "…Wow. That's amazing, Claire. Congrats. You're finally picking yourself up, huh?"

She smiles, shyness creeping up on her by his flattery. At the same time, she's also feeling uncomfortable with the limelight, so she's quick to return the question back to him.

"So what about you? What have you been up to all this time?"

He seems to run it over in his head for a while, his face appearing in deep thought and contemplation. She arches an eyebrow, trying to figure him out, but he just looks so suspicious. When he finally responds, there's a large grin on his face. "Hmm… I think it's better if I _show_ you."

And unexpectedly, he gets up and beckons her to follow, not even bothering to address the confusion on her face. She follows him out the door, running up to him to keep pace as they make their way downstairs to the first landing. He ignores her questions and protests as they go along, choosing to remain silent until they reach their destination. When they get there, she finally understands what's kept him so busy.

"The manager let me use this room temporarily to fix this baby up," he explains, gesturing to the unfinished and rusty motorcycle standing in the middle of the room.

Claire walks around, careful not to meddle with any of the tools and parts on the ground, but there's a heavy scrutiny in her gaze as she examines the rusty and unfinished bike. "Owen, where did you get this from?"

He shrugs his shoulders, moving to circle around the bike as well. "Well, I got it from a junk yard of a sort, but decided… why not patch it up? I mean, it's certainly cheaper than buying a new one."

Claire nods her head. "I see. So you've been fixing this up the entire time?"

"Basically. Told myself that when I got here, I needed to have one. Can't live without one of these anyway," he says, patting the bike like it's one his treasures. She gives him a quizzical expression, but he replies with a smirk and a wink in her direction. "Don't worry Claire. Once I'm finished up here, I'll take you somewhere nice."

She rolls her eyes, attempting to snub his flirtatious antics, but inside, she's actually glad that they're finally talking.

* * *

Now that they've broken the ice, the atmosphere is more comfortable. The next day, he's back to being easygoing and breezy, making offhand comments and pushing her buttons whenever he pleases.

Since it's her first day at work, he thought it'd be appropriate for him to hang back and wish her luck. Turns out though, that he likes to poke around and she ends up having to play his 'fun' game of twenty questions until she has to go. Some of the questions are appropriate (what's your favorite color? It's white), but some are just downright stupid (what's your take on jelly donuts? They're… good I guess). His next question is somewhere in the middle.

"Are you…" he starts, phrasing the words carefully in his mind. "…still on a _tequila-less_ diet?"

She snorts as she drinks her coffee, remembering both their disastrous first date and awkward encounter at his bungalow. "Well… I'm not a diet anymore. That's for sure."

He flashes a toothy grin at this. "All right… that means we can have more fun now," he says, rubbing his hands together. She rolls her eyes, not wanting to know into what he means by that, and glances over to the clock on the wall.

"Okay. Next question." He pauses briefly, running it over his head for a while. On the other side, Claire observes him carefully, unsure if she's enjoying this game, and _certainly_ not liking the way he perks up when it looks like he's come up with another stupid question. When he's seemingly ready to fire another one, he claps his hands together and smiles widely at her. "Alright, I got a good one. So prepare yourself because I need an honest answer."

She inhales deeply and readjusts herself on the counter, as if bracing herself, before silently prodding him to continue.

"Would you…" he starts again, his smile a bit too wide for her liking. "…ever go on a second date with me?"

And immediately, Claire almost chokes on her coffee as she sputters up a bit in her mouth. She looks at him incredulously, but he remains unperturbed.

She thinks she has the answer right away, but it surprises her that she second-guesses herself. Before, she would have shut him down flat. But now… after all they've been through? He did kiss her back at the park. There's no forgetting that, not to mention her nephews somehow managed to think that he was her boyfriend. She takes another sip of her coffee and contemplates for a while, but ultimately, she decides that if they were going to live together, some honesty _would_ do them some good.

Much to his surprise – and hers as well – she nods her head. "…I guess I would."

It takes him aback so much that his jaw drops. And now he's staring at her so amusedly and smugly that she wants to take back what she said. "Wow. I'm flattered, Claire. Is it safe to say that you're finally intrigued by me?" he asks teasingly.

She shrugs her shoulders and makes a nonchalant expression. "I don't know, Mr. Grady. But it doesn't matter, seeing as you're way past 20 questions."

Taking a glance at the clock, she notices it's exactly eight o'clock on the dot – time to go. She moves to pick up her bag from the kitchen counter and throws him a goodbye glance before he can ask her another question. "Well, I better get going. I'll see you later."

* * *

A few weeks later, she discovers that there is a vast difference between solitude and loneliness. And she realizes that she hates the latter. Especially come night. It takes about twenty minutes of uselessly pacing back and forth for her to decide. She figures that if she was crazy enough to lure a Tyrannosaurus Rex out of its den, then she should be able to handle this.

Still in her pajamas, she throws on her robe and walks confidently out the door. After the stairs, she takes a familiar left in the hallway to where Owen might be. But the moment she sees that the light is on (he's there), she feels her confidence quickly dissipating. She doesn't understand her nervousness, but perhaps it's because she's actually seeking him out this time.

After a deep breath, she cautiously pushes the door open and peeks her head in. He's certainly there, sitting at a footstool, probably working on the engine or doing something she will never understand.

"Hey Owen?" she pipes up quietly.

He turns his head over his shoulder. "Claire? What are you doing here?"

She rehearses the answer in her head once, but it still comes out as awkward and confusing. "Uhh… do you mind if I just… stay here? I don't mean to trouble you. I can just watch…" she asks, her voice coming out a little shaky that she wants to kick herself for it.

He looks at her a bit incredulously, well aware that the request if highly unusual of her, but nods his head anyway. "Uhh sure. Why not? I don't mind. The more the merrier, right?"

Nodding, she smiles a quiet thanks to him before making herself comfortable on the only chair in the room. She doesn't speak after that. She merely watches him work with a faraway and aloof expression on her face and eventually, it becomes clear to him that she's not here for conversation, but company. And so, they remain in companionable silence for the rest of the night.

* * *

When Claire is updated about the divorce, she listens to a distraught Karen for hours straight. It hasn't been finalized yet, but they've told the boys. Of course, no flowery language could hide the bitterness of it.

Claire bites her lip because that's another layer of distress added to the trauma they already experienced. She can even hear it in their voices when they're put on the phone. It's all monotone and there are a few sighs every now and then. But afterwards, Karen talks about how the boys seem _closer_ now, and that puts a small smile on her face.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, Owen had come back from work. She didn't really notice him until he started cooking, but Claire knows he was in good eavesdropping distance to their conversation.

When she finally hangs up the line, she rubs her face in her hands. But when Owen comes over to pat her consolingly on the back and ask how the boys are doing, she answers him with completely honesty.

She's thankful that he's a good listener.

* * *

She's been here for almost two months and neither of them has addressed the nightmares that choke them at night. That changes today, because when she arrives home after a late shift, she hears him mumbling restlessly in his sleep again.

It comes as a fight-or-flight response, but she drops her stuff at the front door and hastens to his room. When she bursts the door open, she can see him shaking and sweating in the moonlight. She starts reconsidering her actions again, but when she catches him mumbling something alike to her name (is this nightmare about her?), she gets the motivation to move. She sits herself at the edge of the bed and gently places her hands on his shoulders to give him a shake.

"Owen? Wake up. Come on," she whispers in the night, desperately hoping that she's doing the right thing. Her first efforts aren't rewarded the first time so she shakes a bit harder. This time, she uses one of her hands to pat his cheek softly. "Come on, Owen. Wake up. It's just a nightmare. _Please_ wake up."

No response.

Not one to give up, she rattles him even harder and loudens her voice. "Owen. Wake. Up. Please, you have to. Come on, just… _please_ wake up…"

And then she realizes that she's actually pleading and _begging_. She doesn't know how or when it started, but all of a sudden, she's overcome with a heavy sense of guilt. A part of her is thinking: Is she… _responsible_ for this? All his nightmares and sleepless nights? All his midnight screams and terrors? She supposes that it _is_ plausible for her to take blame. After all, he wouldn't be shaking and sweating like this if she didn't allow that _thing_ to happen.

It comes as a stabbing and painful revelation that she actually withdraws her hands. He's broken now, isn't he? His raptors are gone. And what does he get? _Her_? She suddenly feels undeserving. She can't _comfort_ him. She's the one that brought this upon him. And now, instead of waking him up, her eyes start tearing up and she's covering her face and whispering 'I'm so sorry, so sorry, so sorry…' as she realizes the consequential weight of her mistake.

It's embarrassing and disgraceful, but when she feels movement beside her, she freezes up and stops immediately.

"…Claire?"

Glancing away from him, she uses her sleeves to rid of the wet streaks on her face. "Yeah. It's me. I'm here."

She feels his legs moving under the covers and scooches to the side to let him sit up. Thankfully, she's stopped crying and the darkness does a good job of covering up the traces, so she assumes that maybe she got away with it.

She waits as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, but the distance is distracting. They're so close that she can smell him and trace the features of his face. But she hopes it's not close enough that he can hear her heartbeat racing.

She swallows hard before whispering, "Are you okay?" He nods his head in response, still massaging the bridge of his nose, and she asks gently again. "… do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head and finally looks up at her, his eyes appearing hazy and glassy. Much to her surprise, he takes one of her hands and wraps it in his. "I'll be okay. You're here now."

They stay like that for a brief moment and her stomach recoils into tight knot. For some reason she can't explain, she gets _that_ feeling again. The same feeling after she used a gun for the first time and saved his life. Like she's no longer in control.

It's not a feeling she can put entirely into words, but she follows it. And it's telling her to let go. Throw caution into the wind. Find courage.

Taking him completely by surprise, Claire raises her fingertips to his chin and kisses him softly, trying so hard to show him that she's so _sorry_ and that she admires him, respects him, trusts him and _really_ cares for him. The gesture is chaste and pure, and when she pulls back, she feels lightheaded.

When it sinks in that she actually kissed him, she's flooded with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. Instinctively, her body moves to leave, but he holds on.

"Claire, please stay." She doesn't miss the desperation in his voice. And when she searches his eyes, she sees _fear_ there. Because of this, she slowly settles back down in front of him. Gulping hard and hesitating slightly, she nods her head.

After she's changed and ready for the night, she doesn't retire to her room. Instead, she slips underneath Owen's covers and snuggles close.

That night, she sleeps without a fitful dream.

* * *

"Claire, I like your hair like that," Owen comments randomly over the dinner table one night. "I mean, I'm no expert on hair, but I think it's very… suitable on you. Very natural."

She fingers some of her ends and notices that the longest strands now reach past her collarbone. She doesn't straighten it anymore, opting to let it fall in its natural mused waves, but she didn't expect him to notice. In the silence that follows, Claire suddenly looks awkward as she glances nervously to the side. Muttering a quiet 'thanks' to him, she's hoping the dim light is hiding her flushed face (it doesn't).

Much to her chagrin, he barks out a laugh.

"Geez Claire. Your face gets red so easily."

She ignores him, trying to retain as much of her dignity as she replies, "That's not funny." But just to peeve her off even more, he throws his head back and continues laughing anyway. She supposes it's because they've gotten somewhat comfortable with each other now.

* * *

More times than one, it seems he actually _likes_ annoying her and testing how far he can go until she's livid with him.

When he doesn't return to their apartment one night, she admits that she's a little bit concerned. She knows he's working on the bike downstairs, but all these hours must be tiring him out. Out of worry, she brings a water bottle for him just in case.

When she opens the door to find him, the sight elicits a strong nostalgia. He's working on his bike, wearing a familiar white and worn-out Henley shirt. It reminds of her of that reluctant stopover at his bungalow. She allows herself to reminisce just this once and when she notices his baffled expression – apparently, she's been staring at him this entire time – she snaps back to reality.

Regret sinks in because she fears he might have misinterpreted that. "Claire. You're blushing again. Is it because you like what you see?"

She rolls her eyes at him and attempts a look of disgust. "Ugh… Get over yourself," she retorts. He laughs in response and instead of handing him the water bottle, she tosses – more like throws – it to him because she's annoyed.

"I'm just here to _check_ on you," she enunciates clearly, even though he won't believe her if she said she was only reminiscing (she really was).

"Just admit that you like me!" he shouts, but she's already scurrying back to their apartment in part-embarrassment and part-shame.

* * *

Accepting his invitation, she's opted to sleep on his bed. But tonight won't afford her a dreamless sleep and she shifts constantly under the covers, forced to relive the incidents over and over again.

This time, they don't get out. No one makes it out. She watches in horror as Zach is plucked from the ground and chewed into little pieces. On the other side, she hears Gray's cut-off scream as he's drowned beneath the water pool. And when she finds Owen, he's already been ripped to shreds by his own raptors.

She finds no time to grieve because after endlessly running to evacuation, she finds herself face-to-face with the white beast. As if to terrorize her even further, the thing _speaks._ It comes off as a soft whisper at first, but the words ring louder as she widens the distance between them.

 _It's your fault. It's your fault. This is your fault._

And just when the hybrid finally catches up to her and she _stumbles_ , she wakes up with a hoarse cry and her heartbeat racing. She doesn't realize that her knuckles are turning white from gripping the sheets so fiercely and that she's actually _crying_. She just waits it out, awestruck and stunned because it felt so _real_. When she feels a hand on her shoulder, she jumps away in alarm.

"Claire, relax. It's just me. It was only a dream."

She recognizes Owen's voice instantly and loosens up a little. Overcome with a messy assortment of fear, guilt, anxiety, and relief, she cowers forward, buries her face in her hands and groans. Eventually, Owen reaches out to stroke her back comfortingly.

"You okay?"

She lets out a big sigh and removes her face from her hands, looking miserable and unwell. "Yeah. Just a bit shaken up." But then she realizes that she actually feels like _shit_ , because the monster's words besiege her again, echoing all around. And now she can't stop thinking about how she's to blame for this mess.

He forces her to come out with it, details and all, and she speaks with hesitation. What she doesn't expect is that he actually gets _angry_. After reassuring her that he's alive and not rotting away in that island, he gets fired up when telling her that it's _not_ her fault and she can't hold herself responsible for what's happened.

He even has the gall to call it _stupid_ and she finds herself offended by it. Being comforted by him is not at all what she expects. It's the first time he's visibly upset with her and she's confused as to why he's so hurt by it. But then he tells her upfront.

"Claire, you're smarter than that. You _know_ better. We all make mistakes. We learn from them. And then we move on," he explains as simply as he can, and it's at this point when she finally realizes. She swallows her pride and stops arguing with him. It seems that all her education and honorary degrees couldn't help her make the conclusion that _life_ happens. And dwelling on your mistakes will only make you vulnerable to more.

How will she make it out of Jurassic World if she's not trying? Wallowing in guilt and self-blame… she's been holding on rather than letting go. No wonder she hasn't made it out yet.

Owen places his hands on her shoulders and forces her to look at him. "I know it's easy to blame yourself, but we all live with regret. Eventually, it becomes part of who we are. And you know what? That's okay."

This time, she doesn't rebut or argue with him. She just nods. Something about his words seems to be coming from experience. And as she runs it over and over in her head, his words become clearer – she'll never make it out of Jurassic Park if she keeps going back there.

Sighing in defeat, she runs a hand over her face and nods her head more surely this time, conveying her understanding and acceptance.

When she sees that hint of a smile on his face, she knows now that he'll let her sleep again. Turns out that his stubbornness was enough to change her mind.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling uneasy about where they stand. But when she goes outside, there's a box of jelly donuts on the table. She sees him emerging from the kitchen and asks him what's going on. With a serious expression, he apologizes for being harsh the night before and that the jelly donuts are too lighten the mood.

It's actually quite charming of him to bring a peace offering so she dismisses his apology, and instead thanks him for getting through her.

* * *

They finally go furniture shopping.

At first, she would only sleep on his bed on occasions where he would ask. However, lately that's beginning to change. Some nights when she would wake up screaming in terror, she would drag her pillow, sneak into his room and hide under his covers. He didn't seem to mind it, so it eventually became routine. She's just glad that she doesn't have to sleep alone now.

Considering this change, they both mutually decided that a new bed and mattress was in order. She also picks out a few things to decorate the apartment so it feels more like home, but she can't help but think about how fast they're progressing without even knowing it.

* * *

She likes their routine. In the daytime, she would work at the spa while he would take on various construction jobs. Come night, they would prepare dinner together and if she felt like it, she would watch Owen refurbish his bike until it was midnight. This is the closest to normalcy she's ever felt yet.

But Claire also starts noticing changes. As their relationship progressed, 'I' problems were gradually turning into 'we' problems. It's an artsy way of saying that they're becoming more dependent on each other, and she didn't realize the weight of that until they hit their first hardship.

When Owen went to the Doctor for a sore back, he returned with a list of medical treatments that was out of their budget. He tried to be stubborn about it, said he didn't need to follow through with it, but she put her foot down. She gave him an incredulous look that meant she wasn't falling for it and reminded him that he has _her_. He doesn't have to do it alone.

She pulled out some money from her savings account and forced him to get treated, despite his protests. Of course, it was financially straining to pay for all the appointments, X-rays and scans. They had to subsist on cheap and frozen foods for a while and she had to consistently remind him that she was okay. Apparently, he felt terrible for dragging her into this, but she assured him it was the opposite.

If he was in pain, she didn't mind preparing heat packs and ice packs. Whenever it was the appropriate time, she reminded him to take his medications. She would even exercise with him because the doctor recommended it. He's teased her more than once that she's being very pushy, but she ignores his whining and plays the caregiver role the best she can.

Throughout this entire trial, she overcomes another learning step. She distinctly remembers the time she first came to realize it. They were in their bedroom with Owen already fast asleep when she finally grasped what it was like to care for somebody. And all of a sudden, it wasn't odd how his problems also felt like hers to bear. She understands now why sometimes, it would seem like she wanted him to get better more than he did. Or how she would research all kinds of home therapies that could help. It makes sense why she's so willing to take his health into her own hands. Not only is she someone who likes to take control (which he still jokes about), but she's also doing it because he's _important_ to her.

He's become someone to lose. And right now, she would do anything to make him stay. After all, without him, who knows where she would have ended up – probably unhinged, forever groveling in self-pity.

In turn, she also realizes that she's getting _soft_ – perhaps even becoming more like Karen everyday – but she supposes it's okay if it means Owen is taken care of.

When the day comes of his last physiotherapy session, she decides to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. Unlike before, she's no longer a nervous wreck so this time, she's confident that she won't blow up like a tomato when he makes his ridiculous comments (maybe).

However, when he steps through the front door and sees his surprise for the first time, she doesn't get the excited reaction she expects. She's never taken him for an emotional person, but she watches as he fails to conceal the tears that gloss his eyes. As he wipes his face with his sleeve, he starts thanking her for taking care of him and that's when she joins him.

In this moment, it feels a lot more natural for her to comfort him, hug him and heck, even kiss him.

* * *

Consider all that's happened, Claire decides that now is the time for ambition. As Owen eventually gets back to his daily routines (how has he not finished that bike yet?), she starts handing out resumes again and aims higher. She figures that if she wants ease any more future hardships, then she should start now.

Being a natural go-getter as she is, she does interview after interview until she finds the one most appropriate. It's no small feat, but when she finally accepts a job at a business firm, she waits until her last day at the spa to tell him. Just like their problems, it seems that somehow her successes also feel like they're his too.

When she returns home on that last day, she doesn't even let him finish greeting her before she blurts out 'I got the job!'.

He's taken by surprise, but it's quickly replaced with excitement. And suddenly, she's lifted off the ground and pressed against him as his lips are find hers in fervent passion. She can feel his smile as she clings on and knows that he shares her joy. When he puts her down, she searches his face and he looks like he might burst at the seams.

She raises an eyebrow when his expression transforms into a suspicious one. His lips upturn to a smirk as he asks, "Does that mean you can buy me a new bike?"

Claire laughs and nudges him away, feeling giddy and jubilant and _blessed_ that she can share this moment with him.

* * *

Considering that they live together, go furniture shopping together, eat together, make plans together and have even kissed on more than once occasion, he decides that it's about time for that second date.

He asks her during dinnertime and she laughs because really, their relationship was due for a second date a long, long time ago. It's also been ages since that disaster of a first date.

When Friday night rolls by, he picks her up at her new workplace in his motorcycle (he finally finished) and she has to take a moment to examine him.

"Hmm. No board shorts, huh? That's a surprise, even for you," she teases.

Owen shrugs and tosses her a helmet as she nears closer. "Aww do you miss them? Do you want me to go back home and change?"

She rolls her eyes and accepts the helmet, hopping on the seat behind him and holding tight.

* * *

For a second date, they sure know a lot about each other. There are no awkward moments. No nervous glances. Even their waitress was confused when Owen told her it was just their second date; one would think they were already married.

"Alright. I confess. You want to know the reason why I made a move on you so many years ago? It was because I thought I could show you a good time. I mean, you looked like you needed it," Owen explains, whilst she looks at him appalled. "So I thought, why not come in board shorts? It was supposed to say 'Hey, I'm a casual and fun guy.' I thought girls liked that."

Claire scoffs, remembering those days when all she cared about was work. She likes to think that she's a new person now, no longer her former, uptight self.

"Okay. You're up next. Why'd you say yes?" he pipes up, wearing a look of eager anticipation.

She takes a sip of her tequila (yes, tequila) and shrugs her shoulders. At this point, there really is nothing more to hide other than embarrassing memories like these. He already knows her likes and dislikes, pet peeves (unfortunately), fears and even past relationships. She has no other big secrets.

"Hmm… I don't know. I was younger then. And single. Not to mention that I hadn't gone on a date for a really long time prior to that. So I guess you can say that I was… desperate?"

She didn't know that this would be a bomb of a confession because he spits out some of his water, totally aghast.

"You went out with me because you were desperate?" he retorts in utter disbelief, like a little kid who lost his candy.

She shrugs her shoulders, amused at his shock. "Well, your first impression of me was _boring_. I don't think that's any better."

He barks out a laugh, eventually coming into an agreement with her. "Wow. I guess that's why our first date was a disaster."

She smiles and nods her head. "I agree."

* * *

That night, they stumble messily back into their apartment, their lips constantly finding each other in the dark. It's not attractive or gentle, but both of them are too caught up in the sensual haze to stop. Owen shuts the door with his foot while Claire slowly drags them to their bedroom. They both know where this is heading and despite sleeping in the same room for so long, it's still their first time with each other.

Before they settle on the bed, he asks her if she's sure and she nods, knowing she _wants_ him just as much as he wants her. It's mutual, just as it should be.

They start out shaky, nervous and unpracticed at first, but they eventually get used to each other's bodies. And by the end of the night when they're both completely spent, she snuggles beside him and rests her head on his chest. He's always the first to sleep, but she enjoys listening to his heartbeat, the sound comforting to her.

She hasn't told him that she's loved him, but that's because she hasn't really dwelled on it (until now). Over these past months, it's hard to believe how much she's grown. And she doesn't know if it's just a part of growing up or if it's because of Owen, but she knows she wants to keep this – the stability.

He's been her anchor this entire time, proving again and again that he's always beside her. And she knows she's been helping him too. She takes care of him when he gets reckless, reminds him that he isn't alone and endures his games and antics because it makes him happy.

All these things they do… maybe there's no need for them to voice it out loud. Why say it when you could show it? She smiles to herself. If Owen really is the only one who can offer her this kind of happiness, then perhaps it's worth letting herself fall in love with him.

* * *

The sun is out that day and for some reason or another, she's feeling particularly good.

It's almost been an entire year since Jurassic World closed down and she can hardly believe how much things have changed; how much _she's_ changed. Glancing to the side at Owen, who's busying himself with a newspaper on the couch, she knows she attributes most of the changes to him.

He's still her anchor up to this day and she's his refuge as well. Sometimes, she thinks about what it would be like if he was gone and it's _terrifying_. Though, she tries not to dwell too much on these thoughts – his overwhelming positivity and exuberance must be rubbing off on her.

Nonetheless, she's forever grateful.

Walking over to the couch, she sits at his side and perfectly content with resting lazily for the rest of the day. According to her, it finally feels like she's living a normal life. And she figures that they'll just stick together from now on because without him, she knows she would have never made it out.

* * *

A/N: Thank you reader if you made it this far. I apologize if it was boring or if there were errors, but feedback is highly appreciated! Otherwise, I hope you have a Dino-mite day - MT


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